Leon E-Book

SJD Peterson

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 43

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011

Beschreibung

After growing up poor in rural West Virginia, Jase McCoy doesn't have a single good thought for Christmas… until he dreams of a mysterious stranger who follows him home and treats him to a night of magical passion designed to convince Jase of the joys possible in the holiday season.

Leseprobe

Chapter One

In Jase McCoy’s opinion, there was only one thing worse than New York City during rush hour: New York City during rush hour on Christmas Eve. Not that anyone would ask his opinion. If they did, he’d admit that the subzero temperatures, the ugly mud and oil-slick snow, and the extra padding each New Yorker wore, making the already crowded walkways nearly impassable, were just minor inconveniences. What Jase really hated about this time of year was the sorry homeless-looking Santas with their missing teeth, dirty natural beards, and the stench of cheap booze that rolled off them—or worse, the leering, over-jolly fat men who got their rocks off by groping children. The constant noise of Christmas music, mixed with the screeching and crying of children and added to the constant blinking of multicolored lights—it was enough for Jase to want to rip out his hair and gouge out his eyes from their sockets.

There wasn’t anything festive or jolly about this season. He couldn’t bring to mind a single pleasant memory of Christmases past. To him it wasn’t a goodwill or spread-cheer time of year. More like, cuss, beg, go in debt, hate your in-laws, spoil your brats, rush, fight lines, give-me-a-fucking-migraine time of year. The facts that the calls coming into the complaint desk where he worked multiplied by several numbers and the suicide rate went up substantially during this time of year were proof that he wasn’t the only one on the planet who hated Christmas.

Growing up in rural West Virginia, Jase had been lucky to have anything to eat during the holiday season, since the one meal a day he got at school was nonexistent. Presents were out of the question, since his mom and whatever man she was sharing her bed with found their holiday cheer in the bottom of a vodka bottle.

He had spent most of his Christmas mornings alone in filth and squalor. Instead of the scent of warm sugar cookies or roasting turkey, the prominent scents of booze, piss, and vomit had filled their one-room shack. There had been no blinking Christmas lights, since Mom had forgotten to pay the utilities again, and the only presents that Santa had left were empty vodka bottles and crushed packages of cigarettes.

He’d always thought there was something very wrong with him. Even in elementary school the other kids had talked about Santa visiting. The amazing gifts they had found under the tree on Christmas morning. He’d never told anyone that Santa hadn’t visited him. He was too embarrassed to admit that he hadn’t been visited. That he’d obviously been so bad during the year that he hadn’t even warranted a stocking full of coal. When he got older, he felt smug when he learned the truth. Those snot-nosed kids who had ranted and raved about Santa had been duped. They had all been lied to. Santa didn’t exist. Christmas was bullshit.

After graduating high school, Jase had worked his way to New York City. He had been lucky to get a decent enough job that he could afford a small place of his own. He left the misery of West Virginia far behind him, tried not to think of the hell he’d grown up in. Yet some things from his past still affected him. Like Christmas. He didn’t get caught up in the holiday season. He refused to waste his hard-earned money on silly decorations or buying gifts. His friends were always smart enough to respect his wishes and leave him alone at Christmas time. Smart enough not to try to buy him a gift he’d only throw back at them. Smart enough to leave him alone and let him be a scrooge and ignore the bullshit. “Scrooge” might not have been the correct term, since even the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future knew not to fuck with Jase. He hated Christmas.

Tightening the scarf around his neck, Jase kept his head down and fought his way through the crowds. He ignored the wino Santa as he wished him a Merry Christmas. He bit his tongue to keep from shouting his usual reply of “Fa la la la fuck you.” He was tired, cranky, and only had two more blocks to go before he’d be out of this craziness. There was no reason to push his distaste and bitterness on anyone else.

His sole focus on getting home, he didn’t see the hellion in the bright-blue snowsuit with the rainbow hat and scarf dart out from a shop until it was too late. His lunch bag went flying one way, his ass another until it landed deep in a nasty brown snow bank. The cold wetness instantly soaked his jeans. Thank goodness his fall hadn’t affected the devil spawn in blue. He was left uninjured and was now playing dodge-’em with the other unsuspecting pedestrians as his mother shrieked, threatening him with coal in his stocking and Santa only visiting good boys as she ran after him. Yeah, good luck with that, kid!

“Great, just great!” he yelled as he fought to pull himself from the Pennzoil slush. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“That could make Christmas very merry.”